Unseen Between Houses
by Armand Imberg
Summary: Car accident, Empty streets, Lots of questions. I tried to write in bits and pieces the way a person really thinks. Please R&R I need to see if I should change anything, add anything, plus I just like to read what people think can be improved.
1. Chapter 1

Parking spaces were nearly impossible to get unless you arrived early in the morning. The car line would stretch across from curb to curb all day long. There were however other areas to park. There were a few behind the school, which you had to arrive before the teachers to get. There were also ten or twelve by the garden, but the working trucks almost always took up a good portion of those.

The school was made up of six good-sized buildings. The two hundred building was the largest of all of them. This is where the cafeteria was located, and where a good portion of the lawn was stretched out. Many students used this hill as an alternative to the old red benches in, and around the structure. The one hundred building was composed of both gymnasiums, and three large working rooms. This is where all the conspicuous noise would come from if you were outside during the school hours and sometimes on the weekends. The remaining buildings were all composed of fifteen to twenty classrooms each, depending on whether the storage areas were included. The four hundred building was most active throughout the day. This was sort of the central hub of the school, because when the weather wasn't tolerable (and it usually wasn't) the students would use this building as their midpoint when walking to and from their classes. However, even when the weather was bad some students would just ignore it and walk across the wet lawn, despite the fact that almost always a good portion would slip and fall, and arrive to class almost completely drenched.

The young man walked into the room, his clothes were partially wet, but not from falling down in the mud. He took his seat, rested his head on hand, and started to drift off as he stared out the window. Staring out the window was what he did almost the whole school day. All he would ever see is rain, because when it wasn't raining, the teachers would put the curtains down, complaining that the sun was distracting their students. Today was of course just like any other day for him. He was tired, and bored, and in a constant state of hoping he wasn't going to be called on for anything. One thing he couldn't stand about class was how the minutes dragged on. He really didn't like school, but he wasn't bad in it. In a way, it was a good thing that when he was in school he tried to forget about what he was looking forward to doing the rest of the day. He still had problems with glancing at the clock though, and that was just one more thing he would dwell on and eventually get frustrated over. So he sat there, trying to forget about time. The minutes added up as he pretended to take notes for a while, and read, and take more notes. After a good while of repeating this tedious process, he picked his head up off his book and once more looked over at the clock. There must not have been too much time left in class, because he pushed himself back up into his seat, and began to place his belongings back into his bag. Not too long later, the final bell rang, and the room was again filled with movement and discord. The boy was one of the last few out; he headed up the hallway toward the parking lot.

He was one of the fortunate students today. He had found a gap between a small tree and the wooden fence surrounding the front yard of one of the houses in back of the school. He threw his bag to the passenger seat, and stepped in himself. It must have been very cold out earlier, because the engine took a bit longer to start up than usual. The car was put into reverse, and sent back slowly to get out of the gap. He looked over at his bag just in time to watch it roll off the seat and hit the rubber floor of his car with a surprisingly loud thud. As he continued to back the car up he wondered why he had so many books in his bag, and thought about all the classes he had that required he bring a book. He shifted to drive, and headed to the line of cars waiting to be sent out of the lot by the clearance officer.

"Where's your parking?" The officer asked him.

"I'm not registered, I didn't get the chance to--"

"Its fine, nevermind. Go."

The officer's voice trailed off as he took off down the street

_Must have recognized me. _

It wasn't long before he turned his lights on. He could barely make out where he was heading because a thick fog had not only cut down his line of vision, but also blocked out where the sidewalk started and the street ended. He squinted and saw a tall shape in the light from his car.

_Pole, this is where the road turns. _

Again he squinted to try to make out where the stop sign would normally be, but saw nothing. He drove for a couple seconds more, still nothing. He stared at the reddish water droplets now forming small groups near the bottom of the car's windshield.

Without warning, a forceful light almost blinded the boy. And his ears were completely filled to the brim by the painfully loud horn of another car. His reflexes hit him; he shut his eyes tight and almost wrenched the steering wheel off of the car as he brought his foot down hard on the brake. The road was slick from the rain, however, and the car kept sliding forward. The vehicle seemed to jump forward, then upward suddenly. He heard something getting crushed under him as something else that seemed enormous hit the front of the car and flew up, crashing into the windshield. He was thrown forward, then back into his seat as his left shoulder was struck with remarkable pain. He couldn't breath for a split-second as he sat there, clutching his shoulder waiting for another impact. The vehicle had completely stopped moving, and now just sat there, obliquely. One of the car's lights was split open horizontally, and the bumper now had a good-sized, red indentation on the left side. The boy still just sat there in pain, and disbelief.


	2. Chapter 2

_Car, that didn't feel like a car. _

_Shoulder_

_That couldn't have been a car. _

His eyes opened suddenly, and it was indisputable that he hadn't hit another car. He couldn't see out the windshield, it was a mess of partially shattered glass, and almost completely blotted out by what appeared to be blood.

_It doesn't bleed. _

He was still too afraid to open the door. Looking at the windshield was enough to scramble his thoughts violently. He thought about what he might have hit. Thought about the authorities and what they would do, what he would tell them. No one would believe him if he said he saw a car coming out of the fog. But he knew he saw a car, he was absolutely positive. Then another realization hit him, right in the face.

_A person, I might have hit--_

He instinctively pounded down brutally on the steering wheel.

"But I saw a car, damn it! There was a car! Heading out of that fog! Straight towards me! And I was on the right side of the road!"

He froze suddenly. That outburst might have attracted attention. He had to get out, and had to do so without thinking twice about it. The door opened, and after a few attempts he stepped out. Using his good arm, he ran his hand through his hair, harder than he'd ever done before. It was then that he noticed that he was trembling, and that he felt sick. One of his legs became weak suddenly and he lost his balance for a second. He began to walk forward, very cautiously, then stopped to think.

_If I did hit something--no, I did hit something, where is it? It should be further back, right?_

He shook his head as he headed back down the street. Now he felt sick, real sick, nauseous and nervous. And he was trembling hard, trembling like a madman. He knew he wasn't thinking straight, and the thought of it made him feel even sicker. Again he stopped to look around, but saw nothing but the texture of the road through the fog.

Wrong side of the road. Move more cars. Wait! More cars might have seen the accident! My car, how long was I sitting in it?

Thoughts attacked him from all sides. He had to get back to his car. There were more people that lived around here; this was a street. There had to be people behind him when he was driving. But no one had hit him from behind after the crash. They might have seen, and avoided it. No, they would have gotten out to help, that's what people do. He turned back to his car, which he couldn't see through the fog. But he knew that he had been going the opposite direction from it to start with. It was then that something caught his eye through the fog.

He squinted, then started bolting toward it. But he stumbled and fell partway there. He couldn't move his left arm without pain shooting up into his chest. He arose once more, and started to walk, very carefully, the remaining distance. The object had begun to become clearer as he got closer. It was a trash bag. A black trash bag pushed off to the side of the road. Again, it became apparent to him that he was supposed to get back to his car. He looked up from the bag, a house. It had to have been a house, but there were no lights on inside. The boy glanced down at his wrist, but remembered that he had put his watch in his bag. He walked down the sidewalk, and passed a few more houses. All of them were dead; it was the only way to describe them. No lights, no noise, nothing. It couldn't have been late; it wasn't even beginning to get dark yet, He had just gotten out of school.

_Still no car, should have left the lights on. _

He walked down the sidewalk for a few more minutes, constantly looking back at the houses, and out at the street. He stopped suddenly when he spotted what looked like the stop sign he was looking for from the start. It was in the same location, but it couldn't have been the same sign. It was almost completely deteriorated; the normally white wood that held the sign up was now brown; reddish brown. The sign itself was a mess. The letters were all partly stripped off, and all the red metal seemed to be charred. The edges of the sign were being eaten away by a thick layer of orange rust.  This discovery got him thinking. For one, why hadn't he seen the sign before? And two, why was it so messed up? The sign was just fine the day before.

"More kids, thinking they're really bad, huh?"

He laughed to himself, and walked into the street.

Stupid people, acting like freaking children. What'll they get out of --?

He stopped walking and scanned the area quickly. He knew he heard something, a person maybe? If it was a person they could help him out. Movement, he could hear something walking, scuffling. He looked out across the street, nothing. The intersection, nothing. There was nothing in sight but there was someone out there. More movement, a sharp scraping noise, but not as loud. Whoever it was moving away from him. He cupped his hands around his mouth quickly and yelled in the direction of the noise.

"Somebody out there!"

He waited, and listened for a response. Now there was another scuffling noise, a faster one. Then the scraping noise again. The boy smiled, expecting a response, there was none. Again he yelled out.

"Just keep coming forward!" He forced a laugh. "I dunno, I can't find my way around in this fog!"

Now another very quiet scuffling noise, coming from his right. He looked down the street, but saw absolutely nothing. Another person must have heard him. He started to walk towards the one in front of him, the one that he could hear very clearly now. He still couldn't see anything though, and he was growing impatient. Again he started to walk toward the noise, but stopped and put his hands on his knees when he saw a figure moving towards him through the fog, maybe twenty meters away. The boy's expression quickly turned to one of astonishment. Whatever it was moving towards him, he could see that it was lying on the cement; dragging itself, and something else, forward.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey! You doing alright!?"

No response, he waited, and then yelled again.

"Hey!"

Whoever it was had stopped moving. The boy now just stared at it. I looked like a person; it had to have been a person. And they had something in their hand, a long pole of some sort.

What is, seriously--?

The thing was moving towards him again, now standing upright but hunched over awkwardly. The boy could tell that it was a woman, and holding a garden tool of some sort. Her dark hair hung down over her shoulders, and parted down her head.

"Are you doing alright!?"

The woman started to move faster, she'd obviously spotted the boy. He moved towards her only for a second before his eyes grew wide with alarm, and he began to back away.

_Did I just--?_

Another ear-splitting scrape along the pavement, as the person shifted closer. He backed off, but made sure to keep looking straight at her, he waited for it to pull its head up again. He needed to confirm what he'd seen.

_Coming after me, what does she want?_

"What are--?"

The thing made a noise, a strong distorted inhaling.

It can't understand me; it doesn't want to, what is wrong with this thing, what the hell is it!? 

It might have been a person once. But now, now he was sure that there was something going on around him. The thing's shoulders contorted violently as it emitted a hoarse, inhuman murmur. The boy was gone, sprinting down the narrow street. His now swollen shoulder had almost brought him to tears. He stopped and bent over, gasping for air.

_I have to get back to the car, right now. _

He quickly examined the area, then stopped breathing to listen for a second to listen. He was sure he'd run enough, but he wasn't sure about what he'd seen.

_It doesn't make sense!_

_Was it attacked by something?_

_But how can she still be alive? Her face was completely gone, ripped down to the muscle! _

Images of what he'd just seen filled his head. Once again, he took off running. He knew he had to get somewhere, there had to be people out there somewhere, he had heard something else.

_She might have needed my help. _

That other sound, what if it was an actual person? No, no, just forget about it. 

Just ahead through the now slightly less dense fog, he saw a parking lot, a large parking lot with only a few cars in it. He recognized it; it was the lot for Bridgefort Park. He knew how he could get home from here, and with the fog lessening up there wasn't a problem. The cement steps to the parking lot were straight ahead. He turned to cross the street, looking to the left and right instinctively. On the way down the stairs he suddenly turned pale, lost his balance. For the first time in a while he started thinking clearly. 

_What the hell did I just see? Really, why didn't I think of this before? What was that thing, seriously?_

There's no way it could have been a person. God! What was I thinking just letting something like that go!?

The apprehension was beginning to eat away at him, for the first time since the accident; he felt deathly afraid. But now it was a different fear. Before he was afraid of what was going to happen to him, what the authorities would do. Now he got to thinking about everything else. 

_Where is everyone? All those houses before, And my car. And the park!_

_It's usually somewhat active during the day. _

He blinked a few times, and tried to see into the pale fog overlaying the outline of the trees.

_But now what's going on? There's no one here._

"I haven't seen anyone, anywhere."

Dizzy, he was now feeling very dizzy. He couldn't keep what he'd just encountered out of his head. One part of his brain was telling him to go back, to verify what he thought he'd seen, to go knock on the doors of all the houses, or to walk down the street until he found his car. The other was telling him to sit down, and wait. To sit down and fall asleep, or start to run. Run through the park and to get home before it became dark. He wasn't sure what to do, and thinking about it literally hurt. He used all his remaining strength to hoist himself up, and continue down the stairs; avoiding the disgusting gray handrail. He nearly tripped when he finally did get to the bottom step, but continued to walk rapidly along the gravel. Every step he took was like a nail being driven into his skull. The harder he tried not to make noise, the more he'd end up making. When he finally did make it to the trail, he was afraid he had already alerted the whole neighborhood of his presence. 

Movement. 

_Nearby?__ Where? Behind _

Something was coming down the stairs. Something was walking, like crude flesh pressing down onto wet cement. 

_Now! Run, now!_

Air, being drawn in and out of something, generating a raucous moaning.

Breathing.

Whatever they were, they were alive. There. The boy looked out to the lot again. There were a few cars, all parked far away from him. It was too risky to run out, too loud, It didn't matter to him though. He himself knew he still wasn't thinking clearly.

_Now!_

He sprinted into the gravel, ignoring the pain in his chest.


End file.
